This is a record of my journey as a Muslim. I used to be Catholic and belonged to a missionary organisation. After my conversion, I sat on the board of a Muslim converts' organisation and specialised in da'wah programmes, convert management, interfaith issues and apostasy cases. I am an initiate of a Sufi order. As such, the articles and writings tend to cover these areas.
All the Arabic and graphics could not have been done without the help of my wife, Zafirah.

Sunday, 26 October 2014

The Beloved

بِسۡمِ ٱللهِ ٱلرَّحۡمَـٰنِ ٱلرَّحِيمِ

The following is adapted from Signs
on the Horizons by Shaykh Michael Sugich. Here, he speaks about his shaykh, Habib Mashhur al-Haddad (q.s.).

“In Jeddah, he met his disciples and visitors
in a small anteroom off the entrance to the large family home his eldest son, ‘Ali
built in the early 1980s in the Bani Malek district. The room was lined with books and furnished
unpretentiously with Belgian carpets and plush floor cushions and bolsters.

He would descend from his living quarters in
the morning and sit with visitors until the noon prayers, after which he would
share the noonday meal, ghada’, with
whoever was present and retire for an afternoon rest, qaylulah. He would return
for the afternoon prayer and sit with visitors through the sunset and night
prayers and the evening meal, ‘asha’,
after which he would retire. He kept to
this taxing schedule into his late 80s, until his health drastically weakened.

Visitors from around the world would come to
call. Day after day he would minister to
a parade of ordinary and extraordinary people, hearing their problems,
patiently giving good counsel and always remembering God. Conversation in his presence flowed from the
mundane to the divine. Every gathering
was organic and natural yet infused with Habib al-Haddad’s (q.s.) transcendent presence.

I remember sitting beside him as one of his
disciples went over in excruciating detail his problem of finding another flat
in Jeddah. Habib al-Haddad (q.s.) listened to him patiently, giving
him sincere advice on where to go and what to do. I kept thinking to myself, ‘What a waste of
this great saint’s time!’ How little I
understood. On another occasion, toward
the end of an evening after the night prayer, one of Habib al-Haddad’s (q.s.) Hadhrami disciples turned up
suddenly and Habib (q.s.) upbraided
him sharply. ‘What’s the matter with
you? It’s late. You shouldn’t come here so late.’ I looked on in reproachful silence. The next day, I saw the same man sitting
before Habib (q.s.), who was holding
his head between his hands speaking to him with great love and compassion.

One day, I was sitting in Habib al-Haddad’s (q.s.) house with Sayyid ‘Umar (q.s.). We were in a room adjacent to Habib al-Haddad’s
(q.s.) anteroom where he was meeting
one of his disciples. I thought how
exhausting it must be for him to have to interact with the usual assortment of self-involved,
worldly people like me and feeling more than a little guilty for taking up his
time. I said to Sayyid ‘Umar (q.s.), “I don’t understand how someone
like Habib can stand being around someone like me.’

Sayyid ‘Umar (q.s.) turned to me and said, ‘Someone like Habib only wants to be
alive because of someone like you.’ He
was silent for a moment. ‘Otherwise, he
would rather be with his Lord.’ This
reminded me of a Sufi saying that the Friend of God, wali’ullah, is ‘the one who lives for his neighbour.’”